Mercy
by Kuro49
Summary: Charles/Erik. It is both literal and metaphorical when Charles' hands are tied behind his back and the knife to cut him free is in Erik's hands.


Currently: travelling with the rare internet connection so heck, why not post a fic I've been editing for the past 2 months? I don't own but this was greatly inspired by Mark Foster, Kimbra and A-trak's _Warrior_.

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**Mercy**

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He wants to rip him apart the same time he never wants to let him go.

"Let's try this."

Erik's smile unnerves him the same way the man's lingering hands make Charles taste a tang of bittersweet at the back of his throat. Erik's hands find the curve of his shoulders and Charles is standing on two legs before he has ended up on his knees like an evolution in reverse. (This love is feral at best.) He raises a brow up at the other but makes no move to get back on his feet.

Erik's smile turns sad. But that may just be him and his wishful thinking because Erik doesn't despair. He isn't one for that. Erik just gets angry before he makes the choice to wreck it all in retaliation.

"Let's learn control."

"Control?"

"Yes, Charles. The one thing we all lack."

There is a snap that he doesn't hear with his ear but in his mind and it sounds distinctly like fingers breaking off a corner of a bar of chocolate. A loud echoing countdown of three, two, _one_. A silent murmur of everything will be alright, _liebling_. Erik keeps pushing, past the childhood terrors where he wakes in fear and sleeps in horror.

"Erik," Charles doesn't flinch, he only asks, soft and firm, "what do you want?"

"I," he doesn't look rational, he looks like a man pushed into the corner with nowhere to run. But this doesn't have to be logical, not when they both have the belief without the means. Erik stares straight into his eyes and confirm what they have always known. "I want you to fight for me."

_This doesn't have to make sense._

"…Done."

So when Erik teaches discipline, he still has his head buried within the coils of barbwires and metal gates. His eyes still see a coin he cannot move, silver lying against a desk of wood.

Charles doesn't ask whether Erik has always had ropes in his bag or it has been bought when Charles hasn't bothered enough to care for where the other man walked off to. Erik doesn't offer anything either. And when he fastens the ropes, he doesn't tell him to stay still. Nonetheless, Charles doesn't move, not even when the first knot comes to pin his wrists together.

"You want to change the world. But you want to fight the world with all the disadvantages you can manage to create for yourself. Don't handicap yourself, Charles."

He ties another knot, wounds the length again and again, once more and pulls it taut. Charles doesn't struggle, he doesn't even look alarmed. He breathes evenly and waits on Erik's signal.

"Open your eyes, Charles. You know you can undo that knot, not with your hands" _but with mines._

And Erik's eyes are wide open with anticipation. Charles doesn't understand the sudden display of nonchalant trust, like this means nothing to Erik and should mean the world to Charles. He doesn't understand but this isn't in his place to say.

"Take me over, Charles. Stop hiding. This is neither right nor wrong. You are not sinking any lower." No one knows what they hope to accomplish, maybe it is nothing or perhaps, it is everything they ever hope to accomplish. Erik cups Charles' cheeks with a kindness Charles isn't used to and says. "Trust your head, take me over."

"You'll fight me, Erik." He leans in to the touch, pitching forward on his knees. _Please, fight me._

"Only when I want to." He grins, all teeth and thin lips. Because he wants to change the world just the same. His means might be different but the fighting will be the same. Hand drawn back, not looking down but staring in equal when blood is drawn to smear and people die.

Charles sucks in a breath through his parted lips and Erik drops his hand to tighten the knot in reply, enough to bruise but the fingers that skip over the back of his neck is feather light, like he still can't decide whether he wants him to know. Charles breathes out, a shudder of air that escapes between his teeth.

"Come now." Erik says into his ear. "What am I thinking?"

Nothing is logical and the thoughts that spike are not rational either.

_Charles is kneeling above him and Erik is not crying but his eyes are red-rimmed. He doesn't see himself but he might look the same. There is a crushing pain he has never experienced before, it is also nothing he hasn't handled or even felt before. Erik's eyes are wide open and he should be broken, still he lies warm and pliable beneath him. Someone works at the knots behind his back. Fingers hot against his wrist, pulling him forward and back. That same someone is also arching off of the bed to bite kisses into his neck, sucking bruises to the skin and laving until the mark is slick with spit. Or that might be him as well._

It is Charles' turn and when he opens his eyes, the rope is falling from his wrists and he looks up to pull Erik down.

"Trust me."

He tells him.

"I do."

_And if it ever comes to it, I'll fight for you._

But that goes unsaid when their lips meet, eager to please, eager to demand just more and more from each other. The rope is lying forgotten in a heap and this is a chain reaction as much as they don't want it to be one.

When Charles stands up, he pulls Erik along. And when Erik falls to the bed with his back pressed against the sheets, Charles follows.

_And I don't know my left and right, my right or wrong either, when you're here._

XXX Kuro

What can I say? I like mind control and Erik and Charles. I am actually fairly certain this is long overdue, considering how much I love to play with these themes XD


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